Hogwarts Magic
by Mimiscout
Summary: Two notebooks bound to each other by a great spell have magically travelled through the hands of many a Hogwarts students managing to draw houses closer and form friendships between a pair of many unlikely people. What happens when one notebook ends up in the hands of first years Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy?
1. Year Zero

** Year zero**

Light filtered through the giant window of the ancient Hogwarts library. Dust hung thickly in the air as Madame Pince crept around the library running her black feather duster through spots she had failed to run it through throughout the year, for example tops of shelves, in between the books and the bookshelf, where small slivers of dust lay. Madame Pince didn't bother herself with unnecessary cleaning like this until the end of a term. It was repetitive (pulling books out, swiping off the dust, Pulling books out and swiping off the dust), it irritated her to no end to hear the unnecessary gabbling of the students as they complained about the excess amount of dust, and the nasty children often ended up sneezing and getting their filthy germs all over her precious books. No, she didn't like doing this until it was highly unlikely a child would walk in the library, or, as she often completed the task half way through the summer, completely impossible the children would enter her domain. It was the last day of school, and children were still about the castle, but it was not often a child would come into the library for more than a few reasons. They were preparing their things to leave, and at this point there wasn't enough time for the children to stop by to say goodbye to her or the books. That was just how Madame Pince liked it though. Peaceful, quiet, and alone with her-

Her thought process stopped all too suddenly, as she heard the Great doors squeaking open. Her arms stiffened and she felt irritation rise up inside of her. Her head poked around one of the shelves to see a young man stroll up to one of the tables. He sat down, and gently placed a leather bound book onto the table. His hands fiddled with the yellow book, which Madame Pince couldn't help but notice how terribly it had been abused. The spine was creased all along the side, and it looked as if the book was all together falling apart. She could see some of the pages sticking out in odd spots, indicating that they had fallen out and the boy had shoved them back into the book as not to loose the pages. If that was one of HER books so help that boy...

Just as she was about to prowl up to the boy and snatch the book away from the child and shoo him away, promising him punishment the next time she saw him, the door shuffled open a bit more and Madame Pince noticed another child walk through the doors. She looked to be the same age as the other boy, though noticeably shorter. She too was carrying a leather bound book in her hands. This one was red and was much better taken care of. Madame Pince refrained herself from interrupting the two children as the girl sat down too, sitting opposite of the boy. She set her book down, and then she finally got a good view of the cover, it was the Gryffindor crest.

It took only a moment for Madame Pince to put the pieces together, and it took so much more effort to refrain herself from snatching both books up and evaluating them. She resisted though, a new respect for the children there (Or at least for the assumed Gryffindor as she had managed to take good care of it during the years she possessed it). Yes, she realized, they probably deserved this time together, and who was Madame Pince to object to the magic of Hogwarts?

"So..." the Gryffindor girl said, brushing one of her long blonde locks of hair back from her face as a small blush crept to her face, "This is it."

The boys eyes narrowed slightly, "What would make you think that?"

"The notebooks can't leave this time." her voice tinged with sadness and regret.

"So what?" he said leaning over and grabbing her hand, "That doesn't mean it's over. These notebooks, they have only aided us. We can make it without them I'm sure." he said smiling at her fondly.

Her lips peaked downwards slightly as she leaned forward towards the boy, "I don't know. Not only will we be going out into the world without much knowledge of what to expect, but we also have no idea what to expect from each other-"

"Merlin Gorgia!" he said loudly, before lowering his voice to the point that Madame Pince had to strain her ears to hear him, "Just because the notebooks will be gone doesn't mean anything to me. You will always be Gorgia, and even though we fight sometimes it doesn't matter." he paused as if thinking over the words he wanted to say next, "Gorgia, you are brave when I'm to timid to say something-"

"You don't seem to timid now." she said, in an almost mocking way. Making his eyes narrow slightly.

"Sometimes I don't know what to say when we fight, and I end up not saying anything. That doesn't mean I'm mad at you, or no longer love you. It simply means I am too timid whilst you are brave. You speak what needs to be spoken, and I have full faith in our relationship when you do not. We are meant to be together, you are my best friend and the person I cherish most, and so what of the notebooks?" he growled, "Screw the notebooks. They can only get us so far, we have to take our relationship in our own hands."

Gorgia, the Gryffindor, began to smile at him, "You always know what to say to make me feel better." she leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek, and took every thing Madame Pince had not to yell at them for the public display of affection.

They both stood up now, leaving the notebooks, and began to talk to each other. Something that others would find adorable, but Madame Pince found rather disgusting as they walked away hand in hand out the door.

The last words she caught as they walked out the door was from the boy was, "I'm going to miss this place." he had said fondly, while the girl responded happily.

"It's been a good seven years hasn't it?"

Madame Pince slunk over to the table where the two had been sitting and eyed the notebooks for a moment. One was Yellow with the Hufflepuff crest, worn out and almost not visible on the hard back journal, and had name engraved on the top. Gregory Haftner. The other one, red with the Gryffindor crest on top of it, had a name engraved in it as well, Gorgia Jenkins. She watched the books, feeling a bit overwhelmed at what she was seeing.

Rumors had run around the staff about these two books for years, but no staff member (except, as the gossip inquired, Dumbledore) had ever laid eyes on it before this. The books were said to be used a tool made from one of the house founders for house unity. Many had tried to get a hold of the books, but when one thought they had found the books they would flit away, or somehow no longer have the magic in it that it once had before. It was a myth of the castle, and no one really believed in it. That was why it had not made it into any of the editions of Hogwarts: A History novels.

Not much was known about the two 'mythical' books, other than it was said they always ended up in the hands of those in different houses. What did the books do? No one was quite sure, and since no one had been able to find them no one could quite verify what they did. Most said that it was used to promote house unity, but others thought it might have been made by Salazar Slytherin to discourage house unity. After what Madame Pince had just seen, the books obviously encouraged house unity. There was no denying it.

Madame Pince looked at the books, thinking through all this, before she reached down to pick up the ratty one (the one that hadn't been taken care of by the Hufflepuff) and just as her fingers began to poke at the stray pages on the side of the book, the book lifted up and out of her hands. It made a loud sound, a slight whooshing sound, as light encircled it and it landed back down in her hands.

It no longer had the horrible binding, the pages sticking out had been beautifully drawn back in to create the image of a freshly bound book. The most shocking change of all was the fact that the cover had changed drastically, it was no longer the yellow, with the badger and name on the front. It was simply a dull brown color with nothing on the cover.

She stared at the book in awe, before flipping one of the pages open and realizing that it was all blank. The pages were like parchment that had never been written on before. She gaped at the book she held in her hands, and then turned as she watched the Gryffindor book imitate the act. Leaving her two identical, blank journals. For a moment she was tempted to scoop them up and take the to Trelawney, who she knew enjoyed a bit of gossip, when the books both made a popping sound, and there was no longer a thing in her hands. No book, and across from her, no book.

She stared wide-eyed and in amazement, wondering who would be the next to receive the two books.

* * *

**A/n: I can't promise how fast the next chapter will be up, but it should be pretty soon. Hopefully before I go back to school (August 19th).  
This story is going to be AU (I guess) where Draco receives a Notebook and Hermione receives it's counter part.  
It's not a guaranteed romance, but I can assure you that there is definitely going to be some Awesome Draco moments in here.  
I'm not 100% sure what direction the story is going yet.  
If you have any questions about the notebooks ask, and if it's too confusing please tell me.  
Thanks for reading. Any Review, favorite, or follow is appreciated, but the fact that you took time to read something I wrote makes me happy. Have a fantastic day! :) **


	2. Year one- Part one

**Year One- Part One: Platform Nine and three quarters**

"Muggle-born." the word danced through the stuffy air of the girls small room.

"Muggle-born." she repeats the word once more, feeling it slip from her lips once more. A smile spread across her young face as she remembered when she had heard this.

"My dear girl," the old man had said taking her hand gently in his frail, old one, "You are Muggle-born, and that is something to be very proud of. Very proud of indeed."

He had explained that the word 'Muggle-born' to her then. "It means you are born in a family of non magical people, but you have some how gained the gift of magic."

She sat in her room, still hours after the encounter awestruck by the incident. She repeated the word she had learned over and over again, her first word from the magical world. The first of what would be many.

Yes, she was going to Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry, and she was proud- for she was a Muggle-born.

* * *

"You're a Pureblood." a regal, cold voice echoed throughout a large, rather uncomfortable room.

Within the room an older man, with platinum blonde hair combed back neatly, stood pointing at pictures that roamed up the side of the wall, "These are your ancestors." he said with a prideful glint in his eyes, this was not the innocent pride that was to be encouraged within kids not the 'You are an amazing, extraordinary person.' No, this was the dangerous pride that threatened the well being of others. This pride went beyond the 'I am an extraordinary person,' onto 'I am so much better than you,' and even further to, 'You are so lowly compared to me you don't even deserve to exist.'

This was a very dangerous pride that glinted in the eyes of a very dangerous person.

It's not often that you think of dangerous people, like Hitler, as a father, but none the less dangerous people often spawn some more dangerous clones.

That's what sat before this dangerous man. A spawn, blonde hair and a hint of the same dangerous pride glinting in his grey eyes.

That being said, spawns were never obedient at first. It took time to whip them into shape, eleven years this man had been beating his own pride into the boy, and while it was always hard to sympathize with the dangerous, evil, insane spawn... it had not been an easy eleven years of life for this boy.

People were to assume that this boy had an easy life. Life was handed to him, and for the most part it was. The boy was well taken care of, he got everything he wanted. Every toy that was in his fancy he had gained. That is, unless it was a muggle toy. Then if the boy was to even touch he would be severely disciplined at home.

"You are not to associate yourself with any scum of the school." the old man growled, continuing on with his lecture, "No Mudbloods. No Weseleys-"

"Father?" the boy interrupted- earning him a slap to the face.

"Don't interrupt me boy." he growled before continuing on with his bigoted lecture.

The boy resisted the urge to cringe, he knew if he were to make an unpleasant face it would earn him another slap to the face. 'Malfoys are always Composed.'

As his father rambled on about Blood Purity, the Malfoy name, so and so forth, the boy couldn't help but think that even though he was finally getting away from his father, that he would still be under his thumb.

"I will hear if you disobey me." he snapped, "Severus is going to be there, and if he sees that you are associating yourself with the wrong kind he will be sure to inform me."

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The boy thought with the hint of bitterness A lesser form of Hades.

* * *

"Platform Nine and three-" the deep voice of Mr. Granger muttered in a very confused manner. He stopped walking as he came to Platform Nine, and stared up at the sign in confusion. "Darling," he said handing her the letter, confusion written clear in his face, "What do you suppose they mean by nine and Three Quarters?"

Mrs. Granger took the letter and pushed back her flat-black hair, her eyes analyzed the letter re-reading it, checking it for hints or indications as to what they were supposed to do. Hermione Granger stood there, anxious. The Grangers were nearly half an hour early for the departure of the train, yet Hermione Granger still felt anxiety riding along beside her as she waited for her parents to figure out how to get where they needed to go.

Hermione stared, jumping a bit on the balls of her feet. Her parents muttered above her, trying to figure out exactly where they were supposed to go, and just as her mother took a step towards one of the people wearing an official-looking out fit to ask where they might find their train- two people swept past them. Now, Hermione was a clever little girl. She often found herself the quite one in conversations not involving school work, which might have been a factor in her friends or lack thereof, and had become a girl who picked up on small details. It had become almost a game for her, the things she noticed and her attempting to piece together a story to go with small details that didn't line up exactly (she had often found that she herself didn't line up exactly to these things, and had often pondered why strange things happened to her) now as she stood here, she couldn't help but notice two figures swiftly making their way through the crowd. A young boy, and an older lady, probably the boys mom or aunt. They both had a sort of elegance about them, as they held their heads up a bit higher than everyone else's, and managed to keep a quick, graceful pace even with the large bags that they carried with them. It wasn't really the elegance that drew Hermione's gaze to theirs. It was more the boys blonde hair. Hermione had a girl her class at school who had dirty blonde hair, blonde, but it was not comparable to the striking hair that glistened and almost demanded attention, as well as the older ladies odd combination of brown a blonde. Hermione's gaze latched onto the pair and followed them, analyzing them, and just as she was about to turn her gaze away, she noticed something sticking out of the kids back pocket.

Her heart stopped as she saw the smooth wood, and knew instantly that he was a wizard too. Her eyes followed them a little ways down the platform, and suddenly the boy stopped. His elegance vanished for a moment as he shot a glance up at his assumed-mother. She smiled and patted his hand, before the kid slowed his posture to resume the elegant pose again, and suddenly the women- once standing in front of the pillar- was now GONE! The kid, cast a miniature worried glance at the pillar before taking a breath and walking through the pillar, and disappearing as well!

Hermione knew instantly that this was where they were to go. She tugged on her mothers shirt sleeve, "Mum, I know where we need to go." her voice said an in excited tone.

Her mother looked down at her for a moment, "Where might it be then Honey?" Hermione smiled and grabbed her luggage from the ground before heading off to the piller.

She knew her parents would be following close behind her, and turned around once she made her way there, "I saw a boy with a wand walk through this piller." she said smiling up at her parents.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger gave each other weary looks, "Are you sure?" Mr. Granger asked placing her hand against the side of the piller, seeing it was very firm, and very much a wall.

Hermione nodded vigorously, "Yes! The boy was with his mom, and suddenly his mom wasn't there, and he was standing alone. Then he walked into the wall, and... and he was gone!" she made a giant gesture with her arms to emphasize her point. "Gone, and he was probably about my age!"

Her parents looked down at their daughter, and trust radiated from their gaze, "I guess we can try it then." Mr. Granger said patting Hermione on the back.

Hermione seemed to glow, "I'll go first!" she volunteered, about to walk through the wall when her father stuck out her hand.

"Absolutely not! I'll go first, and if it works, you can go after me and then your mom. That way there's someone on either side for you." he offered her a smile, before grabbing up the bit of her luggage he was carrying.

"Talley-ho I suppose." he let out a chuckle before backing up a bit and making a brisk walk straight into the wall, and he was GONE!

Hermione's mom gasped, "My!" she said, patting her daughter on the shoulder, "You really have gotten yourself into something, Hermione."

Hermione couldn't help the smile on her face as she looked up at her mother, "It sure is!" she said, before imitating her father, clutching her luggage to her chest and staring at the wall, she took a deep breath before she took a step back rocked on her heels for a moment and rocketed forward. The pillar drew close quickly, and for one moment she lost faith in the magic that was at work, she felt that without a doubt she would run into the wall she clenched her eyes shut when she knew she was too close to stop, and when nothing hit her face, her eyes opened.

In front of her was a train. It seemed almost majestic, and she could feel the anticipation inside of her as she clenched her fists at her side. She was finally going to start her journey. The journey that the aspiring hero's in her book made, the journey was starting. She would go to this school, and she would be something special. She WAS something special, she knew it, she was the muggle-born. The one who rose out of normality into something great. She could feel it in her bones.

She stood there for a moment, when she felt someone touch her back and move her forward a bit, her eyes flashed up and met her fathers.

She reached up to him and felt tears form in her eyes, she would miss her father. Despite the fact that she wouldn't miss the days where she stayed inside her room, feeling lonely as other children frolicked outside, making friends, being normal, she would miss the storng and firm hug her father would give to her on days that she was feeling at her worst. She would miss the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at her or her mum. She might even miss the way he constantly talked about teeth. She would miss her family, despite feeling so out of place in both the world and her family.

Her mother appeared behind her, and she couldn't help but pull them both into a strong hug, a few stray tears running down her face. "I love you both." she said, smiling at them before grabbing her luggage and finally heading off into the world she belonged to.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had not lingered on the platform. He hadn't give an emotional good-bye to his mother (as many of the weaker, stupider students had), but had mearly given her a cold 'See you Christmas'. He had felt almost proud of himself for letting go as quickly as he had, but still felt the lingering bitter effects that he had towards himself for the tiny part of him that longed to run to his mother and hug her. He loathed the part of him that wished to cry, like some child going to daycare for the first time. He loathed the part of him that wished to stay home, the part that wished to cower at home and not embark on this journey. He loathed this part of himself, for Malfoys were not to show emotion, and as his father often emphasized, Malfoys were not to get attached. Malfoys were not to be scared, for what have Malfoys to fear if they had everything, if they were so perfect? The answer was nothing. Malfoys had no reason to fear anything.

He loathed the part of him that was afraid and resembled a baby. There was no question about that, but somewhere deep, deep down, he knew the part of himself he loathed the most was the part that so snobbishly told his feelings off. He loathed that he was so cold, but what could he do about it? The answer was nothing. For he was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's were the best, even if wasn't quite sure he wanted to be everything that meant he was the best.

He shook these feelings off as he entered the train, good and early, feeling quite supreme as he got the first pick of compartments. When he finally got settled in his compartment he leaned back and propped his feet up on the chair opposite to himself. He slumped, treasuring the few moments he had to himself that didn't require him to be the perfect Malfoy he was supposed to be.

A small smile crept onto his lips as he realized that he was going to Hogwarts, and despite his avid want to hide under the roof of his house just a little bit longer- he couldn't help the small amount of excitement leak over him. He was going to finally prove his worth, he was going to prove his worth as a wizard, a purebood, and a Malfoy. He would be the best he could be at school.


End file.
